Mutom Beatitus
by Noir Lime Canuto
Summary: "Well, if you had bothered to read, you'd know that you have to start smaller. Transfiguring me into a lion would be ridiculously difficult for just starting off..." The light and fluffy tale of Hermione's time as a cat called Muffin in Slytherin.
1. The Escape

_ **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I am in no way affiliated with her. This is not a profitable work. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you._

**Mutom Beatitus**

_Chapter 1; The Escape_

"How about a lion?" Ron suggested. Hermione shook her head in exasperation/

"Oh, _honestly_ Ron," she sighed, "I wonder if you even _read_ the chapters."

"Well it's not like anyone else does!" Ron defended, "Only you do! Which is—which is brilliant," he finished lamely.

Knowing he meant well, she smiled affectionately at him, and replied, "Well, if you _had_ bothered to read, you'd know that you have to start smaller. Transfiguring me into a lion would be ridiculously difficult for just starting off-"

"I turned Parvati into a mouse in class!"

"Exactly. Mouse to lion in a big leap."

"But lions are cool!" He protested.

"They're too big."

"A small lion, then?" She shook her head. "A kitten of a lion?"

She was about to say not again, but she considered it for a moment. Kittens were considerably simpler than lions, and a good deal smaller, and weren't too too great a leap from mice. He could turn her into a ferret or a weasel of course... except both of those animals had funny connotations in her mind. Plus, kittens were cuter. Ferrets were kind of creepy, with their long, slender bodies, and their sneaky little eyes, cats were more open and honest...

"Fine, Ron. You can turn me into a kitten. And only because you need a good grade on this, and I can hardly turn myself into one on my own." _Not yet, anyhow. _She secretly planned on becoming an animagus, though she didn't know if a cat would be her choice. Professor McGonagall had chosen the cat, though, and surely she would know best.

"Right, so, just stand there."

"I know." She opened up to the right page in the text for him.

"Right," he swallowed, which was probably a bad sign, and swished his wand about in a complicated movement before murmuring, "_Mutom Beatitus_!" and pointing his wand as Hermione.

The transformation was entirely uncomfortable, and Hermione found herself reminded of a certain incident in Second year, but when it was complete, she felt alright, if a bit queasy. She looked down, and realized with a start how close she was to the ground. Looking up, she could see Ron beaming down at her—and rightly so, she thought, as he seemed to have done a good job.

"Now, to change you back... What spell was it again?" She tried to tell him, but it came out as a meow. She watched nervously as Ron leafed through his textbook and gave a sigh of relief. "Here it is," he murmured, more to himself than to the little brown cat at his feet, "Mutom Monachus."

_No!_ She wanted to yell. That spell was wrong. Didn't he know anything? Sure, she'd found the first spell for him, but it hadn't been because she'd though he couldn't, she had just been nearer to the book. That spell would change her into something else entirely, and it wasn't made to change a cat into anything, so the side effects would be entirely unpredictable and possibly severe.

Smiling nervously down at her, he pointed his wand. Her eyes widened as she saw the words beginning to form on his lips, and she bolted out of the room faster than she thought she could have.

"Hermione? Wait!" He ran after her, but he wasn't as small or quick as she was, and he knocked things over as he darted about the common room behind her. She managed to jump through the portrait hole just as it was closing behind Neville Longbottom [who nearly tripped over her in the process] and continued to run down the corridors.

"Hermione! Come back!" she could hear Ron behind her as she raced past students' feet. "Accio Hermi-" Hermione didn't know why he'd stopped, but a loud crash interrupted him mid-spell.

After running a while longer, and jumping down a few staircases, Hermione finally felt safe. Now all she had to do was either wait it out until Harry or Ginny or someone sensible could find Ron, or find someone herself.

Now walking at a much more relaxed pace, Hermione took the time to really look at her surroundings. The school was larger, and taller, and a lot less interesting as a cat. She knew that cats could only see some colors, but that part of her vision didn't seem to be affected; Ron had probably not done the spell flawlessly. But that was alright, for a near-colorless world would be a much more confusing one.

As she continued to walk, she felt a little colder, and realized that she might have jumped down a few more staircases than she should have—but one doesn't usually keep track while trying to escape. If the school had felt unfamiliar before, from this new perspective, it definitely was unfamiliar now. It wasn't entirely different, just too different for her liking. Hermione enjoyed being in control, and knowing things, and having things sorted out... sure, adventures were exciting, but they were messy and stressful too.

The more she walked along the colder she felt, even with her caramel-colored fur. She felt herself shivering, and tried to think of things besides the uncomfortable environment she was exploring. She thought of tests... charms tests. _Swish, flick to the right, slight nod up_...

Her strategy inevitably worked, and the more she thought of different spells and spell-books the less she thought of wear she was going, and so she was taken completely by surprise when she felt huge, warm hands grabbing her on either side.

_**~x~**_


	2. The Capture

_ **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I am in no way affiliated with her. This is not a profitable work. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you._

**Mutom Beatitus**

_Chapter 2; The Capture_

The more she walked along the colder she felt, even with her caramel-colored fur. She felt herself shivering, and tried to think of things besides the uncomfortable environment she was exploring. She thought of tests... charms tests. _Swish, flick to the right, slight nod up_...

Her strategy inevitably worked, and the more she thought of different spells and spell-books the less she thought of wear she was going, and so she was taken completely by surprise when she felt huge, warm hands grabbing her on either side.

_**~x~**_

It's a truly awful feeling, really, being lifted up high off the ground without knowing by whom your being lifted or why. You feel vulnerable and uncomfortable, but you're afraid to struggle because whatever force is holding you up might give way any second, at the slightest tug of resistance.

Hermione found this to be true as she was lifted into the air, and she went limp, trying to make herself somehow weightless (of course, she knew a spell for that, but she didn't have her wand). She wondered for a few bewildered moments what in Hogwarts was pulling her to high into the air before she was brought face to face with the answer.

The answer's name was Gregory, though Hermione knew him as Goyle. He had harsh, dull brown eyes and a blunt sort of nose, and his mouth was twisted at an odd angle that suggested he didn't pay much attention to how it should be held.

"Cat," Goyle observed in a deep monotone.

"Yes, Goyle, that's a cat," someone remarked from behind him, but Hermione couldn't see who, because Goyle was taking up most of her line of vision. The voice was familiar, but the tone wasn't. It wasn't as condescending as she knew it to be, much more... bored. Not gentle, just bored—though, in being bored as opposed to harsh, it did come off as startlingly more gentle than usual.

"Should we kill it, or something?" another voice asked. Hermione felt herself stop breathing, and she stared helplessly into Goyle's eyes.

"No, it's just a cat," the second voice spoke again. Hermione was almost sure she knew who's voice it was, but hoped it was someone else's, as she really didn't feel like owing Malfoy a favour.

"Cats are for girls. Dragons are for boys," someone replied. Judging from the dullness of the remark, Hermione figured it was Crabbe.

"Probably a girl's cat," Goyle realized out loud, and eyed Hermione with knew interest, making her feel increasingly uncomfortable.

"She can't like it too much, letting it near freeze to death down here," probably-Malfoy-but-hopefully-not remarked with what sounded like disapproval.

"Pansy's a girl," Goyle said with a sort of fondness that the other two didn't seem to notice. Hermione wondered if Goyle would put her down soon. It was starting to hurt. He was holding her around the stomach, but she'd slid, and now his hands rested just below her arms, her furry face level with his.

"You're right," Malfoy said, sounding inspired, "I reckon she'd like a kitten."

"So we can't kill the cat?" Crabbe asked, sounding more disappointed than confused.

"No," Malfoy replied, and she could almost hear the sneer in his voice, "I don't believe Pansy would appreciate if we brought her a dead cat."

"Pansy," Goyle agreed, and lifted the cat in his hands higher into the air. She gave a pathetic little mew, and Malfoy looked over.

The kitten certainly was cute, but then, most kittens were. She had those big green eyes that cats often have, and a little pink nose. She had absurdly large ears, but they looked alright, considering she was a cat. Her fur was short and shiny and the color of dark honey, except for her little paws, which were white.

"You're holding it wrong," Malfoy noted, rolling his eyes.

"Am not!" Goyle protested, but Malfoy took the kitten carefully from his hands anyway.

"You can't just dangle it there like that, Merlin, Goyle. Haven't you ever held a cat before?"

"I had a cat once!" Goyle replied indignantly.

"Yeah, but you said it always scratched you. Did you ever pick it up?"

"I did! Just like that!" Goyle said triumphantly, though his look of pride was replaced by confusion when he saw Malfoy shaking his head.

"Whatever. Just hold it like this, ok, Goyle?" Malfoy demonstrated by cradling the kitten in his arms with exaggerated gentleness.

"Right," Goyle murmured, nodding, "So now do we give it to Pansy?"

Crabbe groaned. "I thought were were going to punch second years?" he complained.

"Later, Crabbe, later," Malfoy promised, truning around to head back to the common room.

Hermione shifted about in his arms, half hoping he'd drop her. Instead he tightened his grip on her ever so slightly, and murmured, "Stay still, cat." She let her head flop against his arm hopelessly as he carried her along. As she lay there, she thought about how to get out. She could scratch or bite someone... but that would risk injury. She'd probably wait until they got to the common room and set her down, and then bolt out the door as soon as she could, and find her way to the Gryffindor common room.

"You can't call it 'Cat,'" Goyle said after a moments silence.

"I'll call it whatever I please."

"Cat isn't a good name, Pansy won't like it."

"Pansy can call it whatever _she_ pleases."

"But it needs a name before we give it to her."

"Does it?"

"We can't say, 'Here is Cat, your cat.' Pansy will laugh."

"I doubt it. She'll probably thank you, Goyle."

"You think?"

"Yeah, you found it, after all."

"I did."

"You did."

"So,_ I_ should name it, then."

Malfoy let out a sigh and put his hand on the cat's head to stroke it. Hermione tried to stay still, wondering all the while if she'd be able to tell Ginny what had happened with a straight face when she got back. "Fine, Goyle, name it."

"You should name it Claws," Crabbe suggested.

"Claws is a bad name."

"Is not! It's a cat name!"

"No, Fluffy is a cat's name."

Malfoy glanced at Goyle, disgusted. "You're not going to name it Fluffy, are you?"

"No, no," Goyle said quickly, "I was going to name it, um, Tart."

Malfoy snorted with laughter, his whole body shaking, shaking Hermione in the process. "Tart?" he choked out, "That's a cruel thing to name someone."

"I didn't mean tart."

"I like tarts," Crabbe chimed in thoughtfully, which caused Malfoy to burst into laughter again.

"I meant Muffin!" Goyle half-shouted defensively.

Composing himself, Malfoy smirked, "Muffins a good name, Goyle."

Hermione wondered how long she'd have to be a "Muffin"—though, it did beat being a "Tart."

_**~x~**_


	3. The Captors

_** Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I am in no way affiliated with her. This is not a profitable work. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you._

** Mutom Beatitus**

_ Chapter 3; The Captors_

Composing himself, Malfoy smirked, "Muffins a good name, Goyle."

Hermione wondered how long she'd have to be a "Muffin"—though, it did beat being a "Tart."

_** ~x~**_

It wasn't long before Hermione found herself in a room with a low-ceiling and an odd green sort of glow. Before they'd entered, she'd heard Malfoy mutter, from above her, "Harpoon Pixies," or something to that effect.

She saw several familiar faces throughout the room, one of which turned in her direction the second she was brought it. It was the excited, pug-like face of Pansy Parkinson.

"Draco, back so soon?" she called over from her flock of girls. Hermione recognized most of them, but had difficulty remembering their names. She dark haired girl to Pansy's left was Daphne, and the one to her right was in Ancient Runes, her name was Tracey Something...

"Yeah. Goyle found something we thought you'd like to see," Malfoy replied, his tone bored but polite.

Goyle nodded vigorously, pointing to the kitten in Malfoy's arms. "Found a cat," he muttered, going a little red in the face.

Like a pack of wild animals (maybe a troop of hyenas), Pansy and the girls flanking her hurried over. The other Slytherins didn't seem to be paying them much mind, so Hermione figured such a commotion must have been a common occurrence.

"Oh, it's _so cute_!" squealed one girl, and Hermione felt herself leaving Malfoy's arms. At first, the was relieved at this development, but as she was passed around from one girl to the next and back again, she found that not all hands were as gentle as his, though a few were a tad gentler.

After being passed around a little longer, she ended up in Pansy's less-than-gentle arms, and Pansy didn't seem eager to give her up, squishing her and whispering absurd questions like, "Who's da cutest kitty in da world? Who is? Who is?" and "Who's a good kitty kitty?" She tried to meow sarcastically, but it seemed to have the opposite effect as the other girls joined in the cooing, hoping she would speak again.

The dark haired Daphne Greengrass looked up, smiling at the three boys, who'd been standing awkwardly by as the cat was greeted, and asked, "What's the kitty's name?"

Goyle answered quickly, "Muffin."

"Muffin's a cute-" Daphne began, but Pansy cut her off, looking up suddenly at Goyle.

"Muffin is an awful name for a boy cat."

"It might not be a boy?" Crabbe suggested, his voice trailing off as Pansy glared at him.

"Well, I already have a girl cat, so."

"You do?" Goyle asked, his face falling.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Obviously. She just stays up in the dormitory, of course. Can't have her walking around the halls like a common cat." Hermione shifted a little, trying not to take offense. Of course, she wasn't a common cat—but she also wasn't a cat, so it was really a trivial thing to take personally.

"We found this one in the halls," Malfoy replied with a shrug, "If you don't want him, we can just put him back?" Hermione looked up hopefully.

Pansy gasped, "No, no, that's awful, Draco!"

"If you don't want it..." Crabbe paused, appearing to be thinking very carefully about his words, "I could take it? Feed it?"

One of the girls shouted in protest, "Don't give it to _him_, Pansy, he'll kill it!" Hermione tried to get a good look at her face, so she could remember to be kind to her in the future.

"Of course Crabbe can't watch her," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. Another girl looked as if she were about to speak, but then Pansy continued, "Draco should."

"What?" Malfoy snapped, he looked as if he were about to add something rude, but decided against it.

"Well, she can't stay in _our_ dorm because Selene will get jealous if it's a girl cat. She used to fight with Millicent's cat all the time before they learned to get along," Pansy reasoned, with several of her followers looking crestfallen at this news, "And you're _so_ gentle, and good with animals, Draco." She put on a sickening, simpering look and Malfoy sighed.

"Fine."

"I could-?" Goyle began, but stopped abruptly when Pansy shot him a look.

Malfoy took Hermione gingerly from Pansy, muttering quietly about Psychotic Hippogryffs and Blast-ended Screwts.

He carried her silently through the door that lead, apparently, to the boy's dormitories, and through another door to lead to his year's, Crabbe and Goyle following behind him all the while. When the door shut behind them, Goyle spoke.

"Pansy didn't like Muffin."

"No, no," Malfoy said, his tone lacking enthusiasm, "She likes her, she just doesn't want her."

Goyle looked very confused.

Malfoy turned then to Crabbe. "No killing it. Pansy will be upset if you do, and it's just a cat."

Crabbe looked very upset for a moment, but soon his face slacked back to blankness again.

Goyle, though, still seemed alert. More so, at least, than Hermione usually saw him. "When's dinner?" he asked.

"After lunch," Draco replied.

Content with this answer, Goyle wandered off to sit on his bed.

"Can we beat someone up before lunch?" Crabbe asked.

"Sure," Malfoy murmured with a shrug, "Should probably get some food for Muffin while we're out."

"Food," Goyle agreed from across the room.

Hermione felt herself being places gently on someone's bed. She eyed the door, but it had closed. When the three boys opened it again, she ran towards it, but it was too far away, and she was trapped. She tried to groan, but it came out as a hiss, and made her way back to the bed she'd been set on before and curled up into a ball to try and sleep.

_**~x~**_


	4. The Attack

_** Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I am in no way affiliated with her. This is not a profitable work. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you._

** Mutom Beatitus**

_ Chapter 4; The Attack_

Hermione felt herself being places gently on someone's bed. She eyed the door, but it had closed. When the three boys opened it again, she ran towards it, but it was too far away, and she was trapped. She tried to groan, but it came out as a hiss, and made her way back to the bed she'd been set on before and curled up into a ball to try and sleep.

**~o~**

Hermione had a dream about being chased by a mouse. Then the mouse turned into professor McGonagol and called her a "mediocre dunce." Confused by this, Hermione had tried to flee, but then Professor Flitwick appeared and informed her that she'd failed all of her classes and would have to be sent back to the muggle world forever, for she was a terrible witch. Hermione, unaware that she was dreaming, began to cry shaky sobs. Then she felt someone patting her back, and her crying eased up a little. Then she felt someone stroking her, from her neck all the way to the small of her back, and her eyes shot open.

Wherever was she? As her eyes focused and the room came into view it became more and more clear that she wasn't where she should be. She was in the Slytherin's boys dormitories? What on earth—it couldn't be! But before she became too upset at that, she realized that everything was rather... large, and high up, and soon she began to recall exactly where she was and why she was there. In fact, everything made sense except the fact that she was being stroked. She'd never admit it, but it felt rather nice. She felt loved, and safe, and protected. It was like a hug from a friend—or, it would have been, if it had been a friend hugging, or rather stroking, her. But it wasn't.

Hermione tried to angle herself so that she could see who exactly it _was_, but that proved difficult, and after a few uncomfortable tries she opted instead to flop on her back.

It wasn't, as she had feared, Draco Malfoy. It was a tall, dark haired, weedy boy from Arithmancy. Theodore Nott. She was slightly comforted by the fact that it wasn't Malfoy, but that didn't negate the fact that _Nott_ was now petting her _tummy_.

"Hey, kitty," he whispered, "Hey kitty, kitty."

"Theodore!" came a sharp voice. Hermione wasn't sure if she was upset or relieved that Nott had stepped back and stopped petting her. Her ears twitched towards the source of the sound and she saw Blaise Zabini walking towards them.

"Theodore," he said again, softer now that he was closer, "What on _earth_ were you doing touching that filthy beast?"

"It's just a cat, Blaise," Nott quickly defended, guiltily not meeting Zabini's eyes.

"It's probably a _mangy Hufflepuff_ cat."

"It could be a Ravenclaw's!"

"Draco found it wandering the dungeons, probably hopelessly lost, Theo. Smart people don't _get_ hopelessly lost."

"But what about-?" Zabini cut him off.

"That was third year, Theodore, and we're never mentioning it again. Those staircases change, you know," Zabini sniffed, and with that he headed towards the door, clearly expecting Nott to follow.

Nott leaned in and lightly touched Hermione's nose with his index finger, whispering, "Don't mind _him_, kitty, _we_ know you're a Ravenclaw's," and with that he turned to go.

Hermione leaped off the bed after him, quietly following his shiny black shoes. They stopped abruptly, and Hermione was nearly trampled, but she managed to quickly dodge them. There was the clicking sound, and the door was spread open before her. _Freedom_.

After sneaking through another door, she found herself in the eerie common room for the second time. Darting about and hiding behind armchairs, she made her way across the room and towards the door. Silently thanking the second year who opened it for her, she sprinted through unnoticed.

Darting about the more deserted of passageways, it took far longer than usual to reach the second floor. She walked quietly down a corridor she hid behind an ancient vase as a few students passed, covered in dirt from Herbology. _Just a few more floors to go_, she told herself as she strode along. But then she heard a loud meow. It wasn't particularly frightening, she didn't think, and so she was a little surprised to find that her heart seemed to disagree, beating faster, and she felt her ears flatten on her head. Instead of the hair on the back of her neck standing up, as it normally did when she was afraid of surprised, the fur all over her did, causing an uncomfortable, tingling sensation like goosebumps.

Then she heard it again, and a large, fluffy cat came into view. Hesitantly, Hermione stepped out from behind the vase. It was just Mrs. Norris, it turned out, nothing to worry about there.

"_Mrooooooowwl_," Mrs. Norris practically growled at her, lamp-like eyes glaring.

Hermione stuttered, flabbergasted, little mewling sounds coming out. Was Mrs. Norris going to-?

_Slash! _Her right arm felt on fire. Mrs. Norris lowered to the ground and her hind legs bent. Hermione backed up, struggling to find the vase behind her while still facing the other cat.

_Pounce! _The fluffy, rule-enforcing cat was on top of her, and Hermione found herself shoving and clawing and trying to get out. She heard faint voices coming from her left, but didn't bother trying to decipher them, she just let out a desperate mew and continued to thrash under the much-larger cat's weight.

"And then my father said, "Fifteen, or you'll never sell a napkin on this side of the wizarding world again!" And then the idiot agreed—he looked like he was going to start crying—and you should've seen my mother, she was so pleased. Anyway, you'll see the napkins when you come for Christmas.."

"What was that? Did you hear that sound?"

"Probably your stomach, Goyle."

"No, I heard it, too."

Hermione blocked another blow from Mrs. Norris and managed to scratch the older cat's nose, causing her to slow considerably. She didn't notice the footsteps becoming louder.

"Hey, look, Draco! Catfight!" It was probably the funniest joke Crabbe had ever made, and Draco didn't even notice... Crabbe felt he might cry, if crying weren't for weaklings.

"That's _Muffin_, Draco, that's _Muffin_!" Goyle made to kick Mrs. Norris with his exceptionally large foot, but the thought of Mr. Filch made him freeze dumbly on the spot.

Hermione felt thin hands around her and the frightening sensation of not being able to control where she was going filled her again as she watched the ground shrink below her. Then she was in the warmth of someone's arms—judging by the gentleness with which she was being held, she figured they were Malfoy's. Even as the thought disgusted her, she much preferred this new position to being attacked by a cat she had thought previously harmless.

**~x~**


	5. The Voices

_** Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I am in no way affiliated with her. This is not a profitable work. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you._

** Mutom Beatitus**

_ Chapter 4; The Voices_

Hermione felt thin hands around her and the frightening sensation of not being able to control where she was going filled her again as she watched the ground shrink below her. Then she was in the warmth of someone's arms—judging by the gentleness with which she was being held, she figured they were Malfoy's. Even as the thought disgusted her, she much preferred this new position to being attacked by a cat she had thought previously harmless.

**~o~**

Hermione shifted a little against her captor's hold until she felt she was about as comfortable as she could be—which, she'd never admit, was actually quite comfortable.

"...Once I had a house elf who was really good at making truffles. I don't remember what Pa did to it, but we don't got it anymore. Guess what I called it!"

Hermione was nearly growing used to the low, slurred words of the largest two Slytherins. It wasn't hard to ignore what they were saying and pretend it was another noise, like the rushing of water, or pounding of thunder. It was really quite relaxing, if she could forget who the voices belonged to.

"Stabby?" another gruff voice suggested.

"No, not Stabby!" came the first, delighted voice.

There was a sigh, and then another voice said, "Did you call her _Truffle_?"

Draco Malfoy's voice was not like the other two at all, and Hermione didn't think she'd ever get used to hearing it. Every so often, as she listened to the other two, the sounds of rushing water would be interrupted by a higher-pitched, sharper, vaguely elegant drawl. There was a certain poetry behind the loosely-masked disdain she heard, though she pretended not to notice.

"Yeah! Are you a sawer, Draco?"

"Seer," he corrected.

"You are?"

There was a silence. Hermione wondered for a moment if he was going to say yes. Crabbe and Goyle would probably believe him. He'd probably make fake predictions just to mess with them, she decided, he'd probably think it good fun.

"Nah, I'm not," he admitted quietly.

A few minutes later, Hermione found herself in the familiar common room once again. She listened to the noise the door made as it closed behind her, but couldn't bring herself to feel anything but relief at being rescued from Mrs. Norris.

"Blaise." She heard the name spoken sharply above her.

"Yeah? What do you want, Draco? Potions essay again?" came a deeper, lazier voice from across the room. She felt herself being carried in that direction, but decided not to open her eyes. She'd never cared much for Blaise Zabini, and was feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment.

"Did you let my cat out?"

"_Your_ cat?" Blaise snickered, "Merlin, I thought it was _Pansy's_!"

"Technically she is. Did you let her out?"

"No, why would I do that?" there was a pause, then Blaise continued defensively, "Frankly, I'd rather have it _here_, in Slytherin. I don't fancy cats or anything, obviously, but it warms my heart a little to know some Huffle's been tearing up this weekend looking for their kitty."

"Right. Where's Nott?" Zabini snickered a bit at this.

"Where d'you think? Off snogging Roger Davies, probably." Hermione's ears perked up a bit at this, and she opened her eyes enough to see Blaise Zabini in green silk pajamas, rolling his eyes dramatically.

Malfoy seemed taken aback too, as he seemed to hesitate before murmuring, "He told you, then?"

At this, Zabini scowled. "Told me? Course not. Wouldn't _dream_ of telling something important like _that_. He _never_ tells me things," he seemed to be done speaking, but then his eyes narrowed, and his voice grew a little quieter, "Why would he tell _you_?"

"He didn't. I walked in on them snogging the other day," Malfoy replied, and Hermione felt herself shaken a little as he shrugged. Then he added carefully, "Nasty, really." There was something in his voice that made Hermione think he was saying something more, but she couldn't quite tell what.

Zabini shook his head. "_Quite_. Why he'd go for _Davies_, well, search me. The boy's a pompous sod."

"Maybe he prefers pompous sods?" Malfoy suggested sarcastically.

"Maybe," Zabini said with a shrug that was nearly nonchalant, but not quite. As Draco carried her over to one of the large plush couches, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if she'd heard something akin to hope in his voice.

**~x~**


	6. The Chat

_** Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I am in no way affiliated with her. This is not a profitable work. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you._

** Mutom Beatitus**

_ Chapter 6; The Chat_

"Maybe he prefers pompous sods?" Malfoy suggested sarcastically.

"Maybe," Zabini said with a shrug that was nearly nonchalant, but not quite. As Draco carried her over to one of the large plush couches, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if she'd heard something akin to hope in his voice.

**~o~**

"Pansy." The sharp voice again.

"Yes, Drakey-poo?"

"Pansy," she heard the voice repeat above her. "Someone let Muffin out today."

"What? Is she alright?" Suddenly Hermione felt someone's finger rubbing harshly under her chin. Although she tried to deny to herself that the thought had ever crossed her mind, for a moment she wished it was Draco rubbing her chin instead. Merlin, how weird that would sound out of context, she thought.

"She's fine _now_, but she was attacked by Filch's filthy monster cat." Pansy and another girl could be heard cooing from the other side of the couch. Another hand began to stroke her back, but judging by the gentleness she guessed it was Daphne Greengrass or someone, not Pansy. It couldn't be Malfoy, she reasoned, because he was still holding on to her firmly.

"Draco! Can I see her?" Another indistinguishable Slytherin girl.

"Not right now, Olive. Muffin's had a rough day."

"You should put her back in the dorms before some idiot lets her out again," someone suggested. Hermione considered opening her eyes to figure out who she'd have to thank later, but couldn't bring herself to do so, too tired to want to do much more than lay limply in someone's arms.

Malfoy must have nodded above her, or something, because she felt herself being lifted from his lap and pressed gently against his chest again. Immediately after this, girls began volunteering to escort them to the dorms. Hermione groaned inwardly and could've sworn she heard Malfoy release a frustrated breath.

"It's fine, it's fine. I should study, anyway, before dinner."

"I could help you study?"

"That's alright, Stacy."

There was a great deal of disappointed noises as Hermione felt the rocking sensation that meant she was being carried off somewhere. As she heard a good opened, she reflected on how odd it was to finds oneself frequenting the Slytherin boy's dormitory.

Malfoy set her down on a bed that smelled like him. Some sort of sweet, almondy-vanilla smell that she was sure she'd never noticed as a human. She wondered how long she'd been a cat. It was a Saturday morning when Ron had turned her into a cat. Someone had just mentioned dinner, so it was probably nearly Saturday night, maybe late afternoon. How long before someone noticed she was gone? How long before they began to look? Certainly no one would check the Slytherin common rooms, but maybe Harry or someone would ask around. It was hopeless thinking about it now, in any case. There was no way she was going to be able to escape again.

She heard a ruffling sound, and finally opened her eyes to see Draco Malfoy taking off his cloak and shoes, sitting next to her on the bed. He looked a lot less threatening in the crisp white shirt than he did in the huge black cloak. More human, anyway.

He looked over at her strangely, like she was familiar. For a second, she felt her breath still, afraid she'd been found out. Then he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully placed locks. "I'm losing it, Muffin..." he murmured. "I could've sworn..." He shook his head and Hermione grew a little nervous again. _Quick_, she thought desperately,_ I've got to act like a cat_. Little paws slightly unsteady on the plush bed-cover, Hermione made her way across to the Slytherin and rubbed her head against his forearm as affectionately as she could muster.

"I'm loosing it. You're just a little cat, aren't you, Muffin?" _Success_.

Her relief was replaced with confusion and fear again rather quickly, though, as she was pulled up against his chest again as he lay down onto his side.

"You are a good little cat, Muffin. I wish people were more like cats," Malfoy reflected softly. Hermione was glad cats couldn't laugh hysterically, because as soon as it dawned on her that _Malfoy was talking to and cuddling a cat_, she felt a great urge to do so. She also found herself purring. _This is alright, though,_ she thought to herself. _It adds to the illusion that I am a cat. Cats purr._

"I think Pansy's a cat sometimes but, you know, she sort of looks like a pug." Hermione tried not to shift out of the way of his warm breath, which she could now feel on her ear as he talked, and tried to remind herself that a cat wouldn't care. "Crabbe is sort of like a bulldog, you know? But not a cat. Goyle is like a dog, too, but one of those big dumb fluffy ones. Millicent is a troll, obviously. I guess Daphne could be a cat, but I dunno, Muffin, she's not really smart enough. She's nice, but she's got no spine sometimes. Just let's Pansy boss her around. I think people are better when they stand by their convictions, Muffin. Even if you disagree with them, you can still respect 'em. Well, most of the time. Unless they're just an arse..."

Hermione was almost alarmed at how much Draco was talking to her. To be fair, though, from what she'd heard while he carried her around, it didn't sound like he participated in a lot of grand conversations. Though the one with Blaise Zabini was certainly intriguing.

"Potter's got convictions, but I still don't like him, Muffin. He's so self-absorbed, he's not even nice to his own dopey friends..." _Don't hiss, don't hiss, he'll know_ "...Weaselbee is like his idiot sidekick, following him around and doing his bidding. Grangers even worse, though, Muffin. She follows Potty, too, but there's something wrong about her being the sidekick. I mean, sure, she's muggleblood and all, but she's like a million times smarter than them. _They_ should be following _her_ around, now that I think of it, Muffin. She probably has self-esteem issues, or something..."

Hermione wished she could kick him, or something, but found herself curling closer to him instead. For a git, he was a great source of warmth.

"...Which I guess could be my fault, but it's not like she was ever really ugly. I mean, God, we were like twelve, Muffin. Besides, she owes me for getting her teeth fixed. It's a waste, though, Muffin. Someone _that_ smart and pretty and of _course_ it's a muggleblood who's in love with Potty. Honestly, _what_ they all see in him is beyond me... Anyway, what was I saying Muffin?" Muffin was unable to answer. "Whatever. You're a good kitty, Muffin. Don't go running off again..."

Pretty soon Hermione realized that the quiet wasn't because Malfoy had come to his senses and realized how _un-Malfoy _it was to talk to a cat, and stopped, but that he'd just fallen asleep. She turned around so that she had a clear view of his face, and she noted how _un-Malfoy_ that was, too. It still resembled him, but he looked sort of harmless. Just like shedding the cloak, somehow falling asleep make Malfoy look more human.

She glanced from sleeping-Malfoy to the door, which was securely closed, and decided it wasn't worth staying up to see if anyone would come in and let her out. She crawled away from him and tried to fall asleep at the foot of his bed, but found that it was too cold over there. After a moment of debating, she crawled back across the bed and nestled again against Malfoy's torso. He made a small happy noise and slung an arm over to draw her closer.

**~x~**


	7. The Book

_**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I am in no way affiliated with her. This is not a profitable work. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you._

**Mutom Beatitus**

_Chapter 7; The Book_

_Pretty soon Hermione realized that the quiet wasn't because Malfoy had come to his senses and realized how un-Malfoy it was to talk to a cat, and stopped, but that he'd just fallen asleep. She turned around so that she had a clear view of his face, and she noted how un-Malfoy that was, too. It still resembled him, but he looked sort of harmless. Just like shedding the cloak, somehow falling asleep make Malfoy look more human._

_ She glanced from sleeping-Malfoy to the door, which was securely closed, and decided it wasn't worth staying up to see if anyone would come in and let her out. She crawled away from him and tried to fall asleep at the foot of his bed, but found that it was too cold over there. After a moment of debating, she crawled back across the bed and nestled again against Malfoy's torso. He made a small happy noise and slung an arm over to draw her closer._

**~o~**

"Draco."

"Mmf."

"DracoDracoDracoDraco."

"_Mmf_."

Hermione twitched her nose, wondering why there were suddenly all of these loud sounds around her. Hadn't she just been in Diagon Alley, sharing an ice cream with Peeves? But, no, that couldn't have been, because...

As more details rushed into her mind and were labeled impossible, Hermione came to the realization that she'd been dreaming.

"Draco, you missed dinner. You missed chicken, Draco. There was chicken."

It took a few tries to open her eyes, as they felt awfully heavy, but when they did things went back to making little sense. Well, some things did. She now understood that the warm little puffs of air that'd been wafting into her face had been due to the exhaling of Draco Malfoy. But why exactly her faces was inches from that of a half-asleep Draco Malfoy was beyond her.

Or, at least, it was, until she remembered several key details. One of them being that she was a cat, the other that she was now practically the Slytherin's pet.

"Draco, are you okay? Are you dead?"

The eyes on the face she was watching slowly opened, then rolled. She felt, more than heard, the sigh that followed.

"Goyle, if I was dead I wouldn't be able to talk to you, would I?"

"Yeah, I thought so," came Crabbe's voice from somewhere else in the room. "I thought you weren't dead."

Then Malfoy sat up, and Hermione found herself tumbling into his lap. Hermione swore that he'd realized she'd been asleep on his chest the same moment that she had. For a second, they made eye contact. Then he frowned slightly, and shook his head again.

"Draco, what is it?"

"Nothing," he replied calmly, looking up at Goyle.

"Are you hungry?"

He seemed to pause, and Hermione wondered if he was searching for an answer. Didn't most people just know that they were hungry? But she supposed Malfoy was hardly a normal person.

"No."

"Oh—I just remembered something."

"Congratulations, Crabbe." Hermione was sure his tone was sarcastic, but Crabbe seemed to overlook it.

"That third year girl—the one with the pointy hair?-I've got to ask her to write my potions essay."

"Can I come?" came Goyle's voice.

Hermione felt herself sliding a little bit again as Malfoy leaned back against the headboard of the bed. She craned her neck to look up at him, but it was hard to read his face from her angle.

"Why? You wanna punch her for me?"

"Nuh-uh... I like her hair. It's pointy." Hermione just barely heard the last part, and wondered if anyone else in the room had.

"Anyway, we're going, Draco. Wanna come?" He shook his head above her. She felt excited at this.

Immediately after she wondered why. _Why_ was she happy for Malfoy's company?

There were a number of possible reasons.

It might have been that he was clearly a brilliant source of heat. But, no, that became creepier the more she considered it; couldn't be it.

Perhaps it was that she hoped he'd start rambling again and would reveal his many secrets, to be used at a later time for revenge. Except, she hadn't really thought of that until just now. Though it probably was a good idea.

A few other reasons, all equally probably-wrong, ran through Hermione's head before she decided that she was probably just lonely after spending to much time away from Harry and Ron. Surely only loneliness could lead to joy at Malfoy's company.

She felt her weight shift again as Malfoy moved like he was about to get up. He seemed to hesitate as he looked down at her, then sat back down as he had been before, back against the headboard. There was a rustling sound, and then Hermione heard, "_Accio Obliviate: Remembering Memory Charms_."

Immediately Hermione's ears perked up. She'd been meaning to read that the other day, but someone else had already checked it out. Feeling spiteful, she stood up and trotted off Malfoy's lap, to sit beside him about a foot away. He looked up at her curiously, and she began to regret getting up. The blanket wasn't nearly as warm.

Malfoy twisted around so that he was on his stomach, and she watched him for a bit as he read. The whole time she was torn between lying closer to him—to become warm, obviously—and scratching him for stealing her book.

Finally she decided to sit next to him and try to read over his shoulder. Something told her that this wasn't particularly cat-like, but she was sure he wouldn't notice anyway. She was pleased to find that he didn't so much as look up when she walked over and took her place beside him. She actually had to duck out of the way a few times so the pages wouldn't brush across her nose as they were turned. Luckily Malfoy seemed to read at a reasonable pace, since she usually didn't have to wait too long after finishing a page for it to be turned. She wanted to thank him for this, before she remember that she should've been the one reading the book anyway.

In the middle of a particularly interesting chapter on the use of memory charms for magical regulation, she heard the door open, and someone step inside.

"Draco."

"Oh... Hello, Blaise."

Hermione kept reading as she felt Malfoy shift around.

"I—I felt liked I owed you for earlier. Being there, I mean. So I asked around about your cat at dinner."

"Oh?"

It faintly registered that she was probably being watched, but she continued reading the paragraph she was on anyway.

"Yeah. No one in Hufflepuff was missing a cat. I had—I had Theodore ask around Ravenclaw table. Nobody there, either."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Might wanna get rid of it, don't wanna attract Gryffindorks."

Suddenly it was dreadfully difficult for Hermione to make out the words on the page. She was sorely tempted to turn around, but had to remind herself that cats don't understand human-words. At least, most cats didn't. Sometimes she wondered about Mrs. Norris.

"Actually, Blaise, I think this is good news."

"How's that?"

"Well, now we don't have to give Muffin back. I'd almost feel bad stealing from a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw."

"_Almost_." She could almost hear Zabini's smirk as he repeated the word.

"We could even hold it ransom, if we found out whose it was."

"Draco, that's brilliant. But who in Gryffindor has a cat?"

"Granger does, doesn't she?"

"How the Hell would you know, Draco?" It took a moment for Hermione to realize that she hadn't managed to think out loud, and that Blaise was simply asking the obvious question.

"Remember in third year, when she and Weaselbee were fighting over his rat, or something?"

"No. No, Draco, I don't. Why do _you_?"

"Don't take eavesdropping lightly, I guess. Anyway, are you helping me ransom Muffin or not?"

"Muffin?"

"Her name is Muffin, Blaise."

"Right. _Muffin_."

"Are you helping or not?"

"It seems a bit juvenile..."

"Blaise, everything we _do_ is juvenile; that's half the fun of it." Hermione found it difficult to argue against that statement.

"Fine. What should we ask for? Galleons?"

"Not if Weasel is funding her."

"We could make her do our homework?"

"Eh, homework isn't so bad."

"You're right, it's not asking enough. She'd probably _enjoy_ it."

"I bet she does Potty and Weasel's homework anyway." There was a snicker at this, and Hermione wanted very badly to point out that she really only revised it, and pointed them in the right direction, and wrote the _occasional_ essay for Ron.

"Oh, Draco, I've got it."

"What?"

"We've got to make her fail a test. I bet she'd absolutely _die_."

"Hm... It would have to be a Potions exam, so we could be sure she actually did it."

Just then someone else entered the room, and Hermione felt confident enough to turn around to face the Slytherins. She turned in time to see that it was Theodore Nott who'd entered, and to notice the look Zabini shot Malfoy before he muttered, "I'll draft the letter, then, and have it delivered," and left.

Nott looked at the doorframe a little bit after he'd gone, then turned to face Malfoy.

"Is he alright? He's started acting weird recently. Barely talked to me until dinner. Has he been avoiding you, too?"

Hermione heard Malfoy sigh beside her. "He's upset, Theo. I'd tell you why, but it's hardly my place."

"Hardly your place? But—but I'm his best friend, I ought to know, hadn't I?"

She thought she saw Malfoy shrug from the corner of her eye. "If he wants you to know, he'll tell you."

"But—but what if he doesn't? You don't know him like I do, Draco. He gets all—all private about things. When something happens with his mum, he never says unless you ask, and he'll tell you his favourite colour is green when it's actually purple and—Nevermind. Forget it." And with that, Nott exited.

The room was quiet for a moment before Malfoy turned to her. Before she could think of what a cat might or might not do, she turned to face him as well.

"Muffin, honestly, sometimes I think I'm the sanest one here... Which can't be a good sign, since I'm talking to a cat." _Ah, so he _did_ realize how loony it was._

The last thing Hermione could recall before she fell asleep was what the name of the minister of magic who'd prohibited fake-recollection charms was, and the feeling of warmth and fluffy sheets.

**~o~**

"Harry, I asked Hannah Abbott and she said Blaise Zabini from Slytherin was asking about a missing cat before. Do you think it could have been Hermione?" Neville sat sideways on the bench next to Harry, awaiting a response. When he didn't receive one, he tried again. "Harry?"

"What? Oh, sorry, Neville. It's just—look at this."

A parchment was passed into Neville's hands, and he held it shakily. People didn't often share the letters that came at breakfast. Looking down at the letter, he noticed it was written in deep purple ink, which was a bit unusual. Maybe it had been written by a girl? Harry's Aunt?

He realized he was entirely wrong when he began to actually read the letter.

_ Dear **Hermione Granger**, (Or, if you cannot be reached because you're busy in the library trying to find a book on hair-straightening, Dearest **Potter and his sidekick, Weasel)**_

_ It seems you've lost your cat. Also, it seems that we've found it. Naturally the thing to do is to get it back to you. But then, you see, we would be helping you out, and for what? Being Slytherins, naturally we ask for something in return._

_ You must fail a Potions exam. The one we're taking on Tuesday. You may receive no more than two points on it. Preferably less._

_ If you do not do this then, you see, we'll have absolutely no incentive to return your cat to you. It quite likes it here, anyway, and I can't say I blame it. Then again, it probably doesn't realize how much joy Crabbe would get from crushing its skull in._

_ But don't worry, we'll take good care of it. Until Potions, anyway. After that, well, where's the incentive, Granger?_

_ See you in Potions,_

_ **Blaise Zabini & Co.**_

"Harry," Ron said, peering over Neville's shoulder, "This is ridiculous. I mean, besides the fact that she's a cat and won't even be _in_ Potions—she'd never fail an exam. What are we gonna do?"

"No idea."

**~x~**


End file.
